Four Letter Words
by Everlark5
Summary: I want to run to a place, a place where Mockingjays sing, where the smell of lilac lives, and where shadows dance together by the pale of the moon. But that place is white and there are no white places here. Everlark
1. Prologue

Life is hard, I can tell you that much. Putting aside the fact that every new day is a burden on my back that eats away at my mind all day, 'will we eat again'. That idea is a constant struggle, even with my new found bravery to venture into the woods not once, but twice a day and a supply of baked goods always a my finger tips. And let's not forget about the looming wretched day that decides the fate of twenty four children; reaping day. A constant reminder that even when your doors are locked at night and you go to bed with a satisfying full stomach, you will never ever be safe.

So putting those facts aside however difficult that may be, life is even worse. Being a teenage girl that has never been given the opportunity to enjoy childhood makes being happy a hard feat. So when your forced into a situation that requires you to be happy, you being to lose your mind. And it's hard, so hard to smile when you have nothing to smile about. To be happy for someone or to be on the receiving side of it. I send hours at a time locking myself away in my bathroom trying to regain a ounce of sanity that I used to have. And the situation wouldn't be so terrible if the person I was tangled with was indeed a horrible human being. But truth of the matter is he's not. And it scares me sometimes that when he says something I feel my lips twitch into something resembling a smile, and when he touches me I actually feel good. I have no right to be happy, even if it's for a short time. How can I relish in such a luxury when other people are suffering. My sister tells me that no matter what I do I can't control what happens to other people, but I can controls what happens to me. She says life's to short to waste it on pity. Any minute I could be dead, and what life would I have really lived? I try to think about what she says and let my walls down for him, but I can't. She doesn't understand that I don't even want this; that I have never wanted this. But the more I live it the more I begin to like it. And that scares me more than anything.

Love is a powerful thing. I've seen what it can do to people.

When my father died my mother checked out on me and prim. She left us to fend for ourselves. We almost died because of a four lettered word. How ridiculous is that? How can one word hold so much power and meaning. It's scary, it really is.

But I have to put all of that aside when it really comes down to it. It's either let your family stave or dwell on impending fear or death; which ever comes first.


	2. New

I wake up in an unfamiliar bed and different color sheets. I feel a breeze on my cheek and warmth from the other side of the bed. If it wasn't for the breeze and the fact that I can no longer sleep I would feel like I was at home in my own bed sleeping next to prim, fighting buttercup for foot space at the end of the bed. But the body next to mine is defiantly not Prims. Even with my back turned and body almost hanging off the bed I can feel the unfamiliarity of it. A small body does not generate that much heat. I'm almost thankful for the small breeze coming from the open window. And the smell of the sheets is different, maybe it's because the sheets smell of home and comfort and the promise of a new day. Nothing like I had before. Even after all these mornings of waking up next to him I still can't grasp the concept of it.

I feel him stir next to me making the bed groan beneath his weight, not that he weighs much or anything. He isn't so much as stocky as he is muscular. His arms and back bulged with muscle anytime he puts them to use. And his abdomen is always a steady hardness that causes me to blush on the off chance that I see his chest, which usually is never. Today is one of those exceptions.

It is hot this July. So hot that even the flies stay away from food or the occasional dead thing unless its hidden beneath shade. I even surrendered to the heat and went to bed last night in nothing but a tank top and underwear. Let's just say the heat meant for a awkward night being that both of us were almost naked, almost.

I hear a groan and a yawn from behind me and a shift in the mattress beneath me. I release a breath and turn my body to face him and his messy blonde hair and tired blue eyes. He speaks first.

"Good morning Katniss". He says with a smile.

"Good morning Peeta". I reply

"Sleep well"?

"Well enough".

And that is usually the extend of our conversation when we are both in the same bed. I think he knows I can't stomach much more than that while I'm laying under the covers with him practically naked, practically.

Peeta sighs and moves off the bed and stretches, reaching his arms above his head which cause the muscles on his stomach to ripple. I force myself to look away. He excuses himself to use the bathroom and get ready for the day while I lift myself from my position on the bed and go to our shared closed and riffle around my limited clothing to find something to go hunting in.

I pull on a pair of dark jeans that hug my legs and a dark green t-shirt, lace up my hunting boots, grab my game bag and head out the door of our house.

Peeta doesn't really like me going hunting every morning. He says its not necessary anymore since him and his family have more than enough food to support us. But with gale working in the mines twenty four seven no one is there to provide for his family. Peeta has a soft spot for Hazel and Posy so he lets it slide.

What he doesn't seem to understand though which I always neglect to tell him is that hunting is the only remaining part of my old life. It's the only real sense of normality in my life other than him. And our situation isn't exactly normal either. I would probably go crazy if I couldn't hunt anymore, I wouldn't even feel like myself. And as the days wear on I feel myself slipping into a new version of the girl I once was and It scares me a little.

So I hunt, Peeta bakes, and life goes on; for now. And we go to bed every night and wake up ever morning and repeat. It's a steady cycle and a comforting routine. I don't like new things and Peeta doesn't like when I'm upset and climbing toward my anxiety that is always at the tip of exploding.

I walk across the town square and nod my head to a few people that pass by. I've tried to blend in as much as possible, but being a girl from the seam that lives in the town puts a damper on my efforts. So I mostly just keep my head down.

Once I get to the fence that separates the woods from the district I press my

ear close to wire and listen for the tell tale hum that signals that the fence is on. I hear nothing so I slip under the

fence, retrieve my bow and turn into the girl I once was.


	3. Reasons

It wasn't my choice, nor will it ever be; but who is the one that has to live with it, 's rare that this happens, especially at my age.

There comes a time when you have to except the fact that your useless, that every single one of your efforts has no point. That you can no longer be the only one that people can fall on and that you're tired, so tired.

It was my mothers idea. She knew the father of the boy from when they were kids and felt comfortable enough to let me marry into the family. They're from the town. They own a bakery and a small four bedroom house next to it. The owner of the bakery and his wife Phil and Edna Mellark have three sons: Banncock, Rye, and Peeta. Banncock is the oldest of the three and has long married and moved out. The second oldest Rye is eighteen years old and has the prospects of a toddler. Humorous and childish in nature, Rye is fun to be around but terrible to live with; so I've heard. And the youngest of the family, the boy that I am to be married to is Peeta. He is sixteen and quite, shy in nature completely opposite of his brother. I have gone to school with Peeta since kindergarten but have never spoken a single word to him other than the occasional hello when I traded with him instead of his father. And now we were Engaged to be married.

His father is thrilled and his brother are just happy that they get to grill him about the "joys of being married and sharing a bed at night". After the announcement of our engagement Rye took the liberty of telling Peeta how to make his way around the bedroom.

"So Peeta, got anything special planned for you're wedding night".

"No Rye. There will be nothing planned for our wedding night. Katniss and I hardly know each other and it doesn't seem at all right to have sex with someone that you have barely even talked to".

"You know there's other things you can do besides have sex".

And then he went off and described in detail just about everything on topic of "having sex without actually doing it". By the end of dinner I wanted to shove my head in a plastic bag and tie it real tight.

But at least he's supportive and that's all I could ask for. Everyone's supportive of the situation except for Peeta's mother.

She relishes the fact that her son is getting married to a girl from the seam, a dirt poor one at that. She hates me, hates my mother, and even hates sweet little Prim.

Peeta tells me not to worry about her, that she wills get over it eventually. And I hope to god he's right, and not just for the sake of my family, but for the sake of us. Because no matter how much I don't want this to happened and no matter how much I wish things were different I know that it's not possible. And I don't want to waste my life dwelling on things that will make it worse.


	4. Confontations

I walk up the steep steps to the bakery and slowly open the door. I find Mr. Mellark at the counter stocking the display case with chocolate nut cookies, Prims favorite. Rye stands behind him and reaches a hand out to grab a cookie only to be slapped away. As I close the door behind me the bell chines and both men turn to look at me, I smile.

"Oh, hello Katniss. What a pleasure it is to see you this morning." says Mr. Mellark standing up and wiping his hands on his apron. "Are you here to see Peeta"?

"Um yes". I reply while adjusting the strap of the game bag that hangs over my shoulder. It feels weird being here in this bakery. I don't know the first thing about baking and yet here I am, a part of a family that does nothing but bake.

"He's in the back; I'll go get him for you".

"Thank you Mr. Mellark".

"Oh please call me Phil. We are family you know". He says smiling.

"Um thanks Phil". I say with the slightest hint of a scowl. I'd rather just call him by what I'm

used to.

Phil winks and then retreats back to the kitchen with Rye in tow. I hear hushed voices and a laugh from Rye and what must be an eye roll from Peeta. A minute later Peeta comes out wearing his lopsided dopey grin that never fails to make me smile. He comes out from behind the counter and presses a kiss to my forehead. He's been doing that a lot, initiating physical contact. It started with barely anything at all; a slight brush of our hands whenever he would walk by, a hug hello and a hug goodbye, and now a kiss either on my cheek or forehead during every one of our greetings. At first I was hesitant with the contact; the only people that I even hugged were Prim and my mother. It was all so new to me that I didn't know how to react. I would shy away from him during the day and "accidently" fall asleep on the couch at night. I was scared; scared that I would begin to feel something for Peeta, and what would happen once I surrendered to that feeling? After the first kiss he placed on my cheek I was so shocked and fill with emotion that I ran all the way to my old house and cried. Prim found me a couple hours later curled up in a ball in the closet. She coaxed me out and brushed my hair while she talked to me.

"He loves you, you know". Prim said softly to me while pulling a soft brush through the knots in my hair.

I sniffed, "How could he love someone in this world, how could he be so stupid"!

The brush in my hair stilled. "Love is not stupid Katniss".

"Prim how could you possibly know, you've never loved someone. Just look at what happened to mom".

"Right, look at what love did to mom. While dad was still alive she was so happy. Those were the best years of her life. Yes it destroyed her when he died, but at least she had the chance to love. Katniss you're stronger than her, you are, and what you said is wrong.I have loved someone, still do. I love you and mom and Buttercup. I don't waste my time worrying about what will happen to you twenty four seven. Katniss even you take the risk of loving me every day. What is so different about doing the same to Peeta"? Prim moves to sit in front of me and grabs my hands. "What life would you have lived if you never get the chance to do what you want. What's worse, dying before you get the chance or living the way you want even if it was for a short time"?

I thought a lot about what Prim told me that night and decided to accept what Peeta gave me. So now I accept his kisses and even look forward to the times of day when he can place his lips on my cheek. Me and Peeta haven't gone farther than that though, not even a kiss on the lips. Prim yells at me, Rye grills me, and Peeta just sits there having to take it.

"Hey". Says Peeta smiling down at me.

"Hey". I reply looking back up at him, mirroring his smile.

We stay the way for a while, just looking at each other. Thats when I notice the dusting of flour on his cheek right under his eye. I raise my hand to his cheek and brush my thumb against him. Even once the flour is gone I don't move my hand from his face. I seem to be lost in his blue eyes. God his eyes are blue and his eye lashes are so long that I don't know how he doesn't get them tangled up. And there blonde, so light that there only clearly visible when the light hits them. I don't even notice that I'm moving closer to him, closing the space between us. I feel is breath on my cheek and tilt my head, closing my eyes, my lips almost brushing his-

"You could cut the sexual tension with a knife".

I jerk my hand away at Rye's words and move my gaze to the ground, my cheeks burning.

"I don't know what you're talking about". I mumble shifting my gaze up to Rye.

"You two were having sex with your eyes and Peeta was practically undressing you so don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about".

"Is it possible to punch someone with your eyes or shoot someone in the head with your eyes". I say crossing my arms.

"I don't think so sweetheart but I'll get back to you on that".

With that Rye turns around and walks back into the kitchen. Peeta has still yet to say a word and I can't bring myself to look at him. I'm only guessing that he can't look any different from me; tense posture, pointed gaze and a burning face. A few tense minutes pass between us, both of us still planted to our spot on the floor. I decide to speak before we end up staying this way forever.

"Well…I…" I stutter still not looking at him. "I just wanted to stop by and say hello and pick up some cookies for Prim".

"Well why didn't you say so? Peeta do something useful and get Katniss her cookies". Says Mr. Mellark stepping into the store front.

"Um, right".

Peeta leaves my side and goes over to the counter. I have to stifle a laugh when he trips over a cord on the way there. I walk up to the counter and rest my hands there as Peeta bends down to retrieve the cookies from the case.

"Alright, five chocolate chip cookies, that will be-".

"Peeta she doesn't pay remember". Says Mr. Mellark

"No its fine I can pay"

"Family doesn't pay. Peeta give her the cookies"

"Right um here you go Katniss". Peeta stammers while handing me the paper bag.

I take the bag from him and walk to the door, just as I open it I look back at Peeta for the first time. "Peeta". I say from my position at the door.

"Ya"? He says looking up at me.

"See you at home" I say smiling

He smiles back.

I practically run out the door to my mothers house trying to fight the smile that won't leave my lips.


	5. Glass

A few hours later I walk into my house to find Peeta slaving over a pot of... something, quietly reading a recipe from a book in one hand while stirring the pot with another. It's quite a hilarious sight. I slip through the door unnoticed and creep my way up behind Peeta on hunters feet.

"Good dammit this doesn't even make any sense". Peeta mumbles while trying to turn the page of the cookbook with his nose. My laugh almost gives me away.

"That's because baking is the only thing you're good at". I say, snatching the cook book from his hands.

Peeta drops the spoon he was using in the pot which causes stew to fly all over the wall in front of it. He whirls around to face me clutching his hand to his chest.

"Good dammit Katniss you scared me" Peeta says breathing heavy.

I turn away from him and grab a apple off the kitchen table and plop down on a stool next to it.

"Is good dammit you new favorite word"? I ask while taking a huge bite of my apple. Juice dribbles down my chin and drops onto the table in front of me.

"That's two words actually and my mother would probably hit you for eating like that". He says with a obvious sarcastic tone and a hint of a smile playing at his lips. I can tell he's trying to be mad at me for scaring him, but is making an awful attempt.

"Ya I'd like to see her come at me and my bow". I reply while taking another huge bite of my apple.

"Seriously Katniss I'm not responsible for you choking and dying". Peeta says while walking back to the pot still bubbling away on the stove. "I don't really want to break it to Prim that her sister died from eating a apple".

"I think she'd laugh".

"I think you're crazy"

We sit in silenced for a few minutes with nothing but the sound of bubbling stew and crunching apples. It's not an awkward silence, not like the ones that usually fall between me and Peeta. It's a comfortable silence. It's almost like basking in the sun after it's been hiding behind the clouds all day, but the sun can't stay out forever.

"How long were you standing there watching me". Peeta asks, turning away from the stove to face me. He leans against the counter and crosses his feet out in front of him.

"Long enough to realize that your a horrible multi-tasker and that you look like a thirty year old man with five kids when wearing that apron".

Peeta looks down at himself, chuckles, and strikes a ridiculous pose. "What? I don't look like a sexy baker that strips for money".

I snort and almost choke on my apple at his comment. "Hardly". I stammer as I try to dislodge the apple piece from my throat.

"You see, what did I say about big bites".

"Shove it up your ass". I retort

"Good one". Peeta says and then returns to dinner

"What are we having"? I ask to his back.

"It's a surprise". He answers back, still stirring the pot.

I watch him as he does this. He looks so at home with one hand resting against the counter and the other one gripping the wooden spoon. It looks so natural for him, so peaceful. I don't know how he can look so happy while leaning over burning hot steam. I hate cooking, always have.

For the majority of my life I did all the cooking while mother laid in bed all day and stared at a wall. She would just lay there while Prim brushed her hair. That seems like Prim's only way of comforting people.

I Cherished every night that me and Prim could eat leftovers and not have to turn on the stove. Number one it took up way to much electricity, number two it was a fire hazard and I couldn't afford our house burning to the ground, and third I just plan old sucked at cooking. What I made was edible and tasteless that filled your bellies at night but never satisfied you. At least we didn't starve.

"I'm sorry about Rye today". Peeta says breaking me out of my haze.

"I'm sorry what?"

"I'm sorry about Rye today".

"Oh ya it's fine, um he's just being who he normally is". I don't add that I'm more mad at him for interupting us than his actual comment, but I'd never tell Peeta that.

"Ya I guess but... Look next time he says something like that I give you permission to shoot him in the head with your eyes ok".

"I thought it was kinda funny". I say with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent.

"Undressing you with my eyes"? Peeta ask.

"Kinda funny"

"You could break the sexual tension with a knife"?

"Clever".

"Really"? Peeta says crossing his arms.

"Ya" I say mimicking him

"Just say ok" He huffs.

I laugh, "Ok"

"Well alright then, now that that's settled." Peeta claps his hands together and walks to the kitchen grabbing me a bowl and walking to the table setting it in front of me. The bowl contains a steaming stew of rabbit and wild rice with a small piece of bread on the side. "Bon appetite".

"Oh my Peeta this looks amazing". I gush.

"And you say I'm only good for baking". Peeta says with a smirk.

"Shut up I haven't even tasted it yet".

"Well alright don't let me stop you". He says gesturing to my bowl.

Peeta goes to sit across from as I pick up my spoon, dip it into the bowl and raise it to my lips. Peeta's gaze is steady and fixated on me as I put the stew in my mouth and slowly pull the empty spoon out letting the flavor explode on my tongue. I close my eyes and moan. "Mnhh Peeta this is so good. Where did you learn to cook like this". I ask while shoving more into my mouth, my moans increasing with each bite.

Peeta stammers at my question and answers in a slightly strained voice, "I guess it's just in my blood".

I lower my spoon and look at him. He looks quite uncomfortable and can't seem to look me in the eye.

"Peeta are you ok"?

"Fine, just fine. Why do you ask"?

"You don't look fine"

He puts his spoon down in his bowl causing a loud clamber. "Oops.. Uh.. If you'll excuse me I have to...uh".

Peeta gets up from the table causing his chair to fall over and his bowl to tip over onto the floor, spilling it's content and glass all over the hardwood.

"Peeta what the hell"!

He turns away from me and bends down to pick up the shards of glass that seem to be everywhere. I get up from my chair and hurry to his side, bending down to help him.

"Peeta what's wrong? What did I do"? I ask lightly touching his arm so he will stop and look at me. He stops but keeps his gaze on the glass in his hands.

"Nothing Katniss, you didn't do anything it's just...".

"What Peeta"

"It's hard Katniss, it's so hard sometimes."

"Peeta what do you mean" I say as I tighten my grip on his arm.

Peeta pulls away and stands up keeping his back toward me. His shoulders move up and then deflate down as he begins to speak.

"Living here with you Katniss and not being able to do a damn thing about it".

And with that he turns to the stairs and walks up them slamming our bedroom door behind him, leaving me amongst broken glass and a confused heart.


	6. Discomfort

I don't know how long I sat there in a pile of broken glass staring up at the stairs where Peeta had run. My heart and mind were going a mile a minute trying to figure out what the hell just happened. It wasn't like Peeta to get mad and walk away and seclude himself from me. It wasn't like Peeta to get mad at all.

Something I did caused him discomfort, but I can't think of anything that would of caused it. And what the hell was he talking about? "It's hard sometimes". I don't get it, I just don't understand.

Peeta has been perfectly happy with our relationship so far and has not made one comment on it. Did this have something to do with how he's been acting lately, all the physical contact? Did he want more? Did I want more? No this wasn't the case. It was something else, something he's not tell me. I dont understand!

I press my hands down onto the floor to push myself up into a sitting position, but realize to late that any part of the floor I touch will be covered in glass. "Shit". I curse clutching my hand and watching blood trail down it and drip to the floor. There are cuts all over my hand with tiny pieces of glass embedded in each on. It hurts, it hurts a lot. I run to the sink in the kitchen placing my hand under the facet and turn on the water. "Oh my god"! I cry out. The pain is almost blinding. I can feel the glass moving deeper into my skin with every touch of the water. Hot angry tears slid down my face and cloud my vision. Why does Peeta have to be so emotional? Why didn't he just let me help him? Why did he run away from me and leave me with this mess?! Why do I even care?! Why doesn't he care? Damn him!

I pull my hand from the water and run up the stairs to the guest bathroom to find a pair of tweezers. A path of blood follows me up the stairs and down the hallway creating tiny drops of deep red. Once I reach the bathroom I slam the door behind me and riffle around the cabinet. Once I find a pair of tweezers I begin angrily pulling the glass from my hand. It takes all my effort not to scream. Once all of the glass is gone I lean back against the wall and slid down until I hit the floor curling my knees to my chest. I rest my hand on my knee and put my head down on my arm trying to even my breathing. Any moment I could have a break down and that would only make the situation worse

Once I feel stable enough, I lift my head and pull my hand away from my knee. What I see almost makes me loose my dinner. My knee that was once olive and smooth is now a deep shade of crimson. I look at my injured hand to find that it to is covered in blood. I need stitches, I need stitches now. I get up so fast that I'm disoriented for a second and have to grab onto the counter beside me. Through my haze I don't realize that I putting bad hand down until hot white light flashes my vision and I almost fall to the floor. When I regain my bearings I grab a towel, wrap it around my hand, poke my head out of the door, and run as fast as I can down the stair, out of my house, and to my mothers.

I ignore all the stares from every passerby and focus my attention to getting to my mothers house. I look down at my wrapped hand and breath a sigh of relief when I find that my blood has yet to soak threw the towel. I make a sharp turn left and sprint the rest of the way to my destination. I burst through the door to find Prim and my mother both staring at me with surprise written all over their faces. I bend over and place my uninjured hand on my knee trying to catch my breath. Prim and my mother both rush to my side once they see the towel around my hand.

"Katniss what happened"? My mother asks as she unwraps the towel.

I open my mouth to speak but it all just comes out in chops. "I...broken...glass...cut".

"Where's Peeta"?

I just shake my head

"Here sit down, I'll get my stitching thread. Prim grab some bandages and fill a bowl with warm water please". Prim rushes off while my mother grabs my arm and leads me to a stool in the kitchen. Once I'm seated she runs to get her medical supplies. I don't even realize I'm crying until a loud ugly sob escapes me.

"Katniss it's ok". Prim coaxes as she sets the bandages down on the table and takes my uninjured hand in hers. With her other she slowly takes the braid out of my hair and runs her fingers through it brushing out the knots. My mother walks in a minute later carrying tweezers and medical thread. She kneels in front of me and takes my bloodied hand in hers and places it in the warm water. I hiss at the contact.

"I'm sorry Katniss, but I need to clean it. I could use something to numb your hand before I start stitching-".

"No!". I interject. "I don't want you wasting anything for me".

"It won't be wasting Katniss." My mother says with a stern look.

"It doesn't matter. I don't want it anyway". I say dejectedly and slump my shoulders.

She doesn't answer. She just takes my hand out of the water and begins stitching. 'I wish I would have excepted the medicine'. The feeling of my open skin being pulled together is probably the worst thing I have ever felt. I grit my teeth but don't scream.

"Katniss you need to keep your hand still". My mother pleads

"It is still"! I say between gritted teeth.

"No it's not Katniss. Either sit still or bleed to to death".

"How the hell am I supposed to sit still when my hand hurts like a b-".

"Peeta". Prim whispers

"What Prim"?

Prim motions her head to the door behind me. I turn my head to the front door and freeze. Peeta stands there with his mouth wide open and fist clenched, he shakes a little.

"Oh my god Katniss! I saw the blood there was a lot and then I couldn't find you and oh my god I came here and oh my god are you ok"?! Peeta rushes to my side and takes my hand that Prim had dropped to finish braiding my hair.

I snatch it away. "I'm fine". I grumble, but the end of it turns into a cry.

"You don't look fine"

I whip my head around and narrow my eyes at him, my blood boiling.

He must notices my reaction to his statement and backtracks a little.

"I mean you look like you're in pain".

I don't answer him I just turn around and stare at my hand in front of me. I feel eyes on me and look up to find my mother looking at me with a question in her eyes. I shake my head and look back down. Peeta has yet to say any more and has backed up a few feet quietly watching from a distance. I want to punch him, I want to shove glass in his hand like me. Im mad, so beyond mad at him.

"Alright I'm about done with the stitching, Prim can you bandage her up for me. We can't afford her wounds to open up, she's lost enough blood already".

I hear a sharp intake of breath from Peeta's direction.

"Funny, doesn't feel like it". I mumble

"That's because you're running off adrenaline right now". Prim says as she wraps a large white bandage around my hand. It's soft beneath my finger tips.

"Prims right. In an hour you will probably start to feel the effects of blood lose. You will be very tired so I advise you to stay here for the night". My mother says

"No problem" I say as I stand up after Prim finishes wrapping my wound. I turn around and face Peeta who has not moved since I snapped at him. He looks lost. His skin is pale and he can't stop figiting. He's nervous, he's upset, and I'm so mad at him.

"Peeta I think you should go" I say with clenched fists. I don't lose my composer and fight off the tears threatning to fall.

"Ok Katniss" He drops his shoulders and diverts his eyes from mine and walks toward the door, stepping out, and closing it softly behind him.

As soon as the door latches I run to my old room, lock the door, and collapse into a puddle of tears and sobs on my old bed that smells like the forest, not like bread. It smells like the life I've lost.


	7. Blood

Blood, blood everywhere. Seeping from cracks onto the white washed walls and flowing through the floorboards onto a pearl colored carpet. It surrounds me from every side, taunting me. Dark crimson, thick and hot. The blood smells of lead and something else, something familiar.

Blood pools at my feet from where I stand, burning my legs and slowly rising. I can't move, I'm cemented to the ground unable to escape my predator. More blood pours from the red ceiling in buckets, clogging my throat and blinding me, muffing my screams and hiding my tears. Red, everything is red.

I used to like the color of red. I would watch it form from the sun on especially clear summer days and then I would lie out under the stars when night fell. The first bow I ever bought Prim was red, a deep shade of crimson. Before, red meant another day survived. Now it means death.

Red fills my mouth, running over my tongue. It taste like metal and something, something else. It crawls over my skin and claws at my eyes. It pulls at my hair and screams into my ears. I can't breath, I can't think. It sounds like fire, the crackling of a wood stove and cement on cement. It smells like fire, burning and smoke. It smells like something else, something familiar. It smells like bread and dill, it smells like-

"Peeta"! I scream, lurching up in my bed and kicking at the blankets that are tangled at my feet. I can still taste it. Red, everything's red.

"Peeta"! I scream again, my hair falling into my face in clumps of sweat.

It's now that I see it, the body in my dream. It wasn't me being consumed, it was Peeta; bathed in his own blood.

I fall back onto my pillow and scream. I scream for Peeta, I scream for me, and I scream for the girl that never used to scream. Bile rises to my throat, choking me; it tastes like blood. I hurl over the side of my bead, emptying the contents of my stomachs onto the floor. Then I cry.

Hot ugly sobs rip themselves through my mouth and into the clammy wet night air, tangling themsleves in my curtains and bead sheets. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to get the feel of blood off my skin, but it's everywhere. I scream again and rip the sheets off of me and fall to the floor. Tears soak the hardwood and blood dots where the tears missed. Is it my blood? I crawl to the bathroom, ignoring the burning in my palms. Wet salt flows down my cheeks falling into my mouth; salt tastes like blood, I scream again.

I pull myself into the dark room and fall into the pristine white tub, I stain it red. I plug the tub and turn on the shower while ripping my clothes from my body. I grab the soap and scrub my skin, I scrub untill I burn, untill I burn like fire and smell like bread. I sob again and throw the soap across the room, curling up into a ball letting the water cascade around me like rain. It rained when my father died, it rained in my dream, and it rains tonight.

I close my eyes to the sound of footsteps on the tile and the sound of my name.

"Katniss"!

The voice wont let me sleep.

"Katniss"! It calls again.

"Katniss wher- oh my god"!

Why is the voice in my bedroom.

I hear footsteps again so I scream.

The owner of the voice bursts in the door. I open my eyes to find blonde hair and blue eyes. They stare at me.

"Peeta". I wimper. My voice is barely above a whisper, but its enough to break him out of his trance and rush to my side. Once he's close enough i reach out and and wrap my arms around him, clinging to him.

"Shh Katniss it's ok, everthings fine. I'm here I'm here, shhhh." Peeta sooths as her strokes my damp hair. My tears stain his shirt and the water from my body does the same. Still stroking my hair Peeta reaches behind me and pulls the plug, letting all the water and blood wash down the drain. He pulls away grabing something beside him. Once he releases me I fall back into the tub and curl up willing my body to stop shaking and my sobs to quiet. A second later I feel warmth engulth my body. Peeta lifts me from the tub and carries me to my bedroom, laying me down on my bed and pulling a blanket over me. I open eyes. Peeta lays beside me with my head in his lap, stroking my hair and whispering calming words into my ear. My bed has been stripped of its sheets and pillows leaving nothing but a bare matress beneath me. My mother stands at the doorway watching me and Peeta while holding a sobbing Prim in her arms. Did they hear me scream? Why didn't they come and wake me? Why is Peeta here?

My questions reach my lips but don't fall as my eyes close. My muscles relaxes and my face falls.

I fall asleep to Peeta's words and Prim's soft cries.


	8. Light

I wake up to a wetness on my forehead, a coolness being spread across my hot skin. Wet and hot like blood. Blood, blood everywhere!

I lurch up knocking the cool compress from my head, a scream leaving my lips. I grab the blanket below me, twisting and pulling it in my fists. My legs flail and my head turns side to side, my eyes never quite focusing. I feel a pair of thin, bony hands griping my forearms and pushing me back down onto the bed.

"Katniss shhh. It's ok, it's ok. It's you're mother. You're ok, you're ok, you're safe. Shh,shhh." My mother soothes, removing her right hand from my arm and using it to caress my forehead.

"Where's, wheres...". I stutter trying to catch my breath and calm my beating heart. "Where's Peeta"?! I breath out in one big string. My heart still pounds away in my chest and seems to be making it's way up my throat.

"He's ok, he's safe. He just went down to the bakery to tell his father that he can't work today. He should be back soon". My mother looks down at me and smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. When I don't return it she takes her hand from my forehead and moves to sit in a chair across from me. I lift a hand to my eyes, covering them and breath a sigh of relief. Peeta's fine, he's ok, he didn't drown in blood. I squeeze my eyes shut willing the images to leave.

"Katniss I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you had to go through that last night. And I'm sorry that I couldn't help you".

Her words cause me to remove my hand and look up at her. "What do you mean you couldn't help me"? I ask, my voice weak.

She stays silence for a while looking at a spot in the distance. She rings her hands together and breaths in. "Last night... I, I have never seen you like that before. You were screaming and thrashing around and..." She trails off. I notice her playing with the hem of her sleave, pulling it down farther around her wrist and hand. She continues. "I couldn't shake you for the life of me. I tried everything I could. I threw water on you, I used my smell insults, God Katniss I even.. I even slapped you". She slumps her shoulders and runs a hand through her hair and down her face. "I didn't know what else to do so I ran and got Peeta. When I got back I didn't hear you screaming and you weren't in your bedroom. I heard the water running and there was blood everywhere. Katniss I thought, I thought... I thought the worst". Her voice breaks, a single tear slides down her cheek. "Peeta found you in the bathtub. Katniss if we hadn't gotten there in time". She shakes her head and looks down. "There was so much blood. Your wounds must have opened up and there was a gash on the back of your head". I reach my hand back running it across my scalp until my fingers hit a crisp bandage. The burning in my palms explains the wounds on my hands, but I don't remember ever hitting my head. It must have been when I fell out of bed.

"How much did Peeta see"? I ask placing my hand back over my eyes.

"He heard you scream when he got to your bedroom. He saw all the blood and-".

"No I mean... did he see me? Um did he see me naked"? I ask peeking between my fingers.

"God Katniss"! My mother exclaims, throwing her arms into the air. "You almost died and you're worried about if Peeta saw you naked"?

"Just answer my question". I huff

"Fine yes but I doubt he saw much. The room was dark and the tub was filled with blood soo...".

"That's what I thought. I think I remember him staring".

She laughs, "Of course he was".

I laugh with her. The atmosphere between us calms a little making it easier to breath. I can't imagine what she's going through, her husband dying and her daughter almost doing the same. I decide not to think about it.

The moment is broken with a knock on the front door.

My mother stands and smooths out her skirt. "That must be Peeta". She turns and opens my door, but before she walks into the hallway she stops. "I don't need to know what happened between you and Peeta, but you have a lot of explaining to do and you need to hear him out as well. Katniss he-". Another knock on the door interrupts her. She looks at me one last time, turns and goes.

Once she's gone I close my eyes. How will I face him? I can't face him. I wrack my brain for methods of escape, but every single one requires movement and that's more than I can handle at the moment.

I hear loud footsteps making there way down the hallway and toward my bedroom, Peeta would be a horrible hunter. The brass doorknob twists and the door swings open. Peeta stands at the threshold looking at me, still griping the doorknob in his right hand. His blonde hair is a mess of curls on the top of his head and his usually bright blue eyes are dull. Dark purple bags sweep under them, puffy and wide. His chaped lips sport a fresh cut and his skin is pale. His hands and fingers are dotted with colors, he must have been painting. Blues and yellows swep up his fingers and wrap around his hands, pooling into blacks and reds in his palms. Red, red everywhere.

And then all at once the images of my nightmare come rushing back. He's drowning, Peeta's drowning! In his own blood, in my blood! Red, everything's, red!

"Katniss are you ok"?! Peeta runs to my side and kneels down next to me. He places his hand on my arm, but the contact burns my skin. It runs from my finger tips down my body, coursing through my veins along with my blood...blood!

I jump up from my bed and rush to the bathroom, throwing my head over the toilet and heave, but nothing comes out. I dry heave until I can't breath, until my throat burns and sweat pours down my face. Once it's over I lean my forehead against the toilet and try to remember how to breath. I feel a presence in the room and turn to find Peeta kneeling beside me with a outstretched arm like he wanted to touch me, to console me. I turn away from him and brace my hands against the toilet pushing myself up into a standing position. I walk over to the sink and study myself in the mirror. My hair is nest of tangles and my eyes are dull and lifeless, almost feral. My skin is so pale that it's almost translucent. Me and Peeta match. I can't look at my reflection anymore

As I turn away my eyes flick to something in the mirror. It's small, barely visible if you didn't know what you were looking for, but I can see it plain as day. On the bottom of the curtains that hang above the tub, a line of red sweeps across the edges. I walk to over it, bend down and take the blood stained material between my hands. My breath starts to grow heavy and my eyes begin to blur. Every instinct tell me not to, to just turn away, but I can't fight my fingers when they grip the curtain and tug it backwards until the light of the room illuminates the tub behind it. A gasp makes it's way between my lips and I bring up a hand to cover it. My eyes widen and my palms sweat.

A ring of blood lines the tub and a bloody hand print covers the faucet. I can't look away. How bad was I? What really happened last night?

"Katniss" Peeta's voice behind me calls. It breaks me out of my stupor. I turn around slowly as if nothing had happened, as if I was fine.

"Yes"? I ask my eyebrows raised in question, but my eyes not following their lead.

"Let's just go back to the bedroom. You look really tired. I think you need some rest". He eyes me carefully.

I just shrug my shoulders and breeze past him into my bedroom and sit on my bed facing the open window. I hear the mattress creak and sink beneath me.

"Who opened the window"? I ask

"Me" Peeta responds.

"Did you sleep here"? I ask still staring at the blinds fluttering in the breeze. I take a deep breath in through my nose and release.

"No. I didn't sleep at all actually. I just...I don't know why I opened it to be honest. That's how you've been sleeping and I know you haven't had nightmares in a while so...". He trails off.

"That was very kind of you".

"I hope you wouldn't expect anything different".

I stay silent for a while, closing my eyes and letting the wind wash across my face and into my skin. I breath in the scent of lilac. I let the sent sink into me, into my core. When I reopen my eyes again I see a mockingjay perched on the windowsill. It sings. I'd like to think that it was singing for me. Before I realize what I'm doing, I open my mouth and quietly sing out the words to a poem that has long lost it's meaning, a song that has long lost it's flow, and word that have long lost their owner.

'In the forest I fill find you shaking in fear.

I will carry you home and hold you throughout the year.

I will love you forever and we will be one.

Untill we both dance by the sky's glowing sun'. I sing out the last notes in a sweet soprano voice, it ringing throughout the room. The bird sits there and stares at me, holding it's tongue, and then it release it, singing back to me the sweet melody. The bird fell silent, the birds fell silent for my father too.

I walk up to the window, the bird flying away at my closeness and shut it. I return to the bed and look over at Peeta who has moved to a chair beside it. His eyes connect with mine and I'm so struck by the emotion in them that mine quickly flit away. My heart pounds.

"You have a beautiful voice Katniss". Peeta whispers.

"Thanks".

A tension falls between us. It flows down my throat and clogs it, pushing at my temples and clawing at my skin. Peeta shifts awkwardly in his chair.

"Katniss I... I need to explain myself. And I need you to hear me out through everything. I need you to listen to everything I say and not interrupt me until I'm done". Peeta takes a deep breath and stands from the chair and walks to the foot of my bed. He sits down on the edge of it half facing me, half facing the door.

"Katniss first I would like to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my actions, I'm sorry that I wasn't with you last night, and I'm sorry that I'm the real cause of all of this".

Word flick against my tongue and press against my lips, I choke them down.

"Yesterday at dinner before I left you in the kitchen, I was feeling anxious".

The words break through. "Anxious? Why do you mean anxious-"

"Katniss please". Peeta huffs.

I nod my head and place my hands in my lap, biting my lip. Peeta's eyes flick to the chapped skin in my teeth when he thinks I'm not looking.

"First thing you need to know is that I'm a guy, and guys have urges and it's only natural for things to happen and one of those things happened to happen at dinner and I was embarrassed and well you know the rest".

I turn to him, my eyes pointed and my blood boiling.

"I know the rest? Peeta that in no way explains your actions. I don't care what happened to you or what you felt. You left me downstairs in a pile of glass. Do you know how I felt. I didn't understand any of it. I felt abandoned. I thought it was something I did. I thought I hurt you, not turned you on"! I yell my face glowing red. I ruffly stand up and make my way over to him. I stand in front of him and continue.

"All my life I've asked questions. All my life I've wondered what I've done wrong. And then you come around and make me feel like I messed up all over again. You should know by now that I'm fragile! I can't believe you! Do you even care at all"!

Peeta stands up from the chair and looks me dead in the eyes.

"If you think for one second that I don't care about you then you must have hit your head real hard". He says lowly. "I ran all the way from my house to yours in the dead of night. I pulled you out of that bathtub and stayed with you until dawn broke. I took a beating from my mother so I could stay with you all day. So don't tell me that I don't care". His fists are clenched, but his tone remains calm. I glare up at him all the while my heart breaking in two. Instinctively I reach up and brush the pads of my fingers across the cut on his lip. I quickly pull them away and walk to the closed window.

"Peeta you don't have to do this for me. I have nothing for you. I'm just a messed up girl with a dead father and a depressed mother. I can't offer you the things you want. I can't even bring myself to kiss you on the lips". I whisper the last part, pressing my hand against the foggy window.

"Katniss I don't care about that". Says Peeta taking a step toward me.

"Then what do you care about"?

He's close now, so close that I can smell the cinnamon and dill on his skin. I could reach out and pull him to me. Peeta takes another step forward. I can feel his breath on my forehead and hear his beating heart. His eyes which were once dull now, shine with life and something else. I can't quite put my finger on it but I think it's lust. I know my eyes match his. My heart beats faster, matching his, synching into one complete rhythm. He leans his forehead down and finally speaks.

"You Katniss, I care about you".

He inches his head down, locking his gaze on my lips. My back is pressed against the wall and a sweet tension fills the space.

"Katniss". He whispers, his lips inches from mine. "I would really like to kiss you. You can trust me."

I throw my worries away and repeat Prims words in my head, "what life would you have really lived".

I close my eyes and whisper, "Well don't let me stop you".

I snake my arm around him and bury my hand in his hair. He reaches up and gently cups my face. He slowly leans down further, so painstakingly slow. He softly brushed his lips against mine and-.

"Hey Peeta would you like some oh my god!".

Peeta flings away from me, tripping over his feet and falling to the floor. I look up at the door and see a blonde braid whip around and disappear down the hallway. I close my eyes and slid down the wall untill I hit the floor, leaning my head back and stare up at the ceiling. My face feels flushed and a fire burns in the lower part of my belly. I silently curse myself for not locking the door, for not being more careful. He was so close, Peeta was so close... Peeta!

I quickly stand and make my way over to him, still face down on the floor.

"Peeta are you ok"? I ask

He answers with a groan.

I stifle a laugh with my hand. I open my mouth to reply, but my grumbling stomachs interrupts me. I havn't eaten anything since four o'clock yesterday and its noon now.

"I don't know about you but I'm hungry". I turn away from Peeta's form and walk to the door twisting the doorknob and opening it. But before I can step through Peeta jumps from his position with a shy smile playing at his lips.

"Wait Katniss".

I let go of the doorknob and place my hands on my hips.

"Yes". I inquire

"So, when do I get that kiss".

I walk over to him and lower my face to his. He closes his eyes. I place my lips over his ear.

"Never". I whisper.

Then I turn around and walk out of the bedroom. I can hear his groans from the hallway.


	9. Pale of The Moon

The pale of the moon shines through the window, illuminating the bedroom and casting dancing shadows across the hardwood. Peeta lays at my side, his eyes surveying the ceiling above him. He lays above the blankets with his feet crossed and hands clasped across his stomach. His white t-shirt shines in the darkness and his cotton pajama pants cling to his waist. His hair is damp from his shower, a now dark blonde that curls at the edges above his eyes. I mirror his image, clad in only a soft dark green camisole and small sleep shorts that refuse to run down the line of my leg. I too lay atop the covers, with one hand behind my head and the other resting on my stomach. I brush my fingers against my skin where my tank top had ridden up. I bend one leg at the knee and lay the other one flat against the bed. I watch the shadows dance in the moonlight, twirling and gliding in step with one another.

My hair lays in soft silky waves across my shoulders and smells of pine. I breath in the scent and close my eyes and imagine I'm there, in my forest. My bow in my hands, an arrow slung across the wire. I can hear the snap of its release and feel the rush of wind across my face. I can feel the pull of my muscles and the tenderness of my fingertips as the bow flys past them. The dull ache in my shoulder and the burning of my calfs. But with the shift of the mattress and the brief scent of vanilla, I am pulled out of my haze.

Peeta shifts to a sitting position on the bed and rests his back against the headboard. I look up at him, his face illuminated by the white light of the sky, his eyes are the stars. They look down at me and shine. A soft smile stretches his lips and laces his eyes. I look away, my stomach moving up and down against my hand as I breath. I take my other hand and push against the mattress, sitting up next to Peeta, our shoulders and legs touching. The soft material of his pants feel good against my leg. I look at Peeta out of the corner of my eye and follow his gaze. His eyes move down my bare legs and back up, shifting to the hair the hangs over my collarbone. I reach my hand up and brush the hair away. I hear Peeta clear his throat and watch him look away, pulling his legs up to his chest.

The soft notes of silence ring over us in a sweet harmony. They pull at my eyelids and tug at my bones. A yawn leaves my mouth as I arch my back off the bed and stretch my arms above my head. I run my hand over my face to brush the sleep away. It's dark claws pulling me under as the silence stretches.

"You know you don't have to stay up with me". I say, shattering the silence like glass.

"I would rather stay up with you than sleep without you." He replies.

And there it is. Those comments that make me hold my breath. I count my heartbeats and say a silent thank you to the darkness that covers my blush. These comments shatter something in me. They chip away at me slowly, releasing and opening up my heart, one chip at a time.

"It's not going to do you any good staying up all night. How are you supposed to work tomorrow?" I ask, frustrated.

"I told my mother that I wouldn't be in tomorrow".

I turn my body to face him, my eyes wide. "Peeta you didn't".

"I did".

"Why would you do that"?

Peeta runs a hand down his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Katniss we've already been through this".

"No. You are not going to suffer for me. I'm not going to let you get abused by your mother because I can't sleep through the night". I turn from him and cross my arms. I close my eyes, burying unshed tears within them.

"Katniss I can handle her. She's not going to hurt me, not anymore". Peeta places a finger under my eyes and wipes away tears that I didn't even know where falling. He turns to me and takes my arms, uncrossing them and placing his hands in mine. The pads of his fingers sweep across my palm. A tingling starts there and travels up and then down my body. I sigh.

"I just don't want you to get hurt". I whisper

"I won't".

And somehow I believe him. Peeta removes his hands from mine and lays back down on his back, tracing patterns on the comforter with is pointer finger.

"If your going to stay up with me all night. Then we have to figure out something entertaining to do".

His finger stills and his eyes move back and forth, searching his mind.

"We could play twenty questions".

"Ok, as long as the questions are interesting, not dull and boring like most are. It's not like we need a ice breaker. I mean you've already seen me...". I stop mid sentence, my cheeks flaming.

"I'm sorry what?" Peeta asks with a amused tone.

"Let's just play the game"

"Alright you start" Peeta says while putting his arms behind his head. "Fire away".

I think for a moment. Searching my brain for missing puzzle pieces that put together who he is.

"What's your favorite color"? I ask

"Orange". He answers

"Like Effie's hair"?

He laughs. "No a little more muted. Like a sunset kind of orange".

I can see the color. The sky painted with fine lines of reds, yellows, and oranges. I can see the orange. It's always been my favorite part of a sunset.

"What's yours"? Peeta ask.

"Green"

"Like the forest"?

I nod my head and smile. "Ya".

"Ok my turn". Says Peeta. "What is your favorite sound".

"Probably the rustle of new autumn leaves and the soft crunch as they fall to the ground."

"So nature"? Peeta says sarcastically.

I playfully shove him to the side. "Whatever. Now tell me what yours is".

"Hmmm. Probably the sound of light rain. Whenever it would storm I would grab my sketchbook and sit by the window of my room. The rain helps my creativity I guess". Peeta says with a shrug.

His answer surprises me. I had no idea that he painted.

"You paint?" I ask, with wide eyes.

"Ya. I'm not to good at it though. It's just something I do when I'm bored".

"Can you show me some?"

Peeta stays silent for a while, twiddling his thumbs and cracking his knuckles. My eyes fall at his silence. How could I be so stupid. If he never told me he paints, it's obvious he doesn't want me to see them.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to show me if you don't want to".

"No no it's fine it's just. I don't think you'll like them."

"Why wouldn't I like them"?

Peeta takes a deep breath. "I don't really draw because I want to. I draw because I have to."

My eyebrows furrow. "Why do you have to?"

Peeta turns his head and looks at me. Blue meets grey again, but this time his eyes are not filled with want; there're filled with pain.

"It's the only way I can get the images out of my head".

I shake my head. "Peeta what images"?

"My nightmares".

And just like that I'm brought back to my own. Images of black and red and white swirl through my vision and take over my senses. They taunt me and laugh. They grab at me and twist and pull until the pain is blinding. My skin is not my skin and my body is not my body. It's there's, it's the nightmares. And I hate it. I hate who I am and who've I become. I want to leave. I want to run far away, to a place where Mockingjays sing, where the smell of lilac lives, and where shadows dance together by the pale of the moon. But that place is white and there are no white places here.

"Katniss, Katniss. Katniss"!

"What". I jerked my head to the side.

"Are you ok?" Peeta asked. Concern laced his voice. His eyes follow.

"Fine, I'm fine". I answer trying to remember what the forest sounds like.

"Where did you go?"

Where did I go? All I remember is red.

"I don't know". I say

"Was it something I said?" He asks

You paint. You paint nightmares. Yes it was what you said.

"No". Why did I lie.

"Ok. So do you want to see them"?

"What"?

"My paintings".

"Oh, no not tonight".

Peeta eyebrows knit together and frown lines appear on his face.

"Katniss you know you can talk to me right"? Peeta places a hand on my arm. I jerk away and stand up.

"I don't want to talk Peeta". But I do, I wanted to tell him so badly what is going on. I want him to understand.

"Katniss please". Peeta stands and makes his way toward me. I stay where I am, a shadow in the moonlight. He is too now, but his shadow dances.

I turn my head to the window and sigh. "Fine, show me your paintings Peeta".

He doesn't answer. He just takes my hand and leads me to a room I've never been in before. He grabs a key hidden on top of the door and unlocks it. The door creaks as it opens. At first there is darkness. Darkness holds so many things, and I like it. I like being blind to the unknown and the unwanted.

Then light floods the room and I close my eyes. Because he paints what I see, he sees what I see, and he is what I am, but I'm broken, is he? And everything is red and black and white. But in the place of my face is his own, but his eyes are my eyes. And I honestly don't understand untill I see what hides behind the rest of the paintings, what hides behind those eyes. I see his mother and she's staring at me and at the boy beside me. I see her skin in the bruises on the paintings and her nails on the scratches. The eyes are filled with pain and fear.

I walk over to the painting in front of me and run my fingers down the line of the face. It's blue and black and it screams so I close my eyes again.

Before I know what I'm doing I grab the painting off the easel and run to the fireplace in the living room. I start a fire. The fire is orange which reminds me of a sunset, but there is also red and blue; and red reminds me of blood and blue reminds me of bruises. I throw the painting into the fire. It burns and crackles and I can swear I can hear fist hitting flesh.

I glare into the fire and ball my hands into fists. How could a mother beat her child? How could a mother show her son anything but love? Angry tears slide down my face. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to find Peeta looking down at me. Tears cloud his eyes and the hand on my shoulder shakes. I pull him down to me and let him sob in my arms. His tears stain my shirt and his arms cling to me, squeezing me tight. I ignore my shortness of breath. I think back to when our situation was reversed. When it was him holding me in his arms, me crying into his shirt. Maybe he is broken.

Alone we are broken, shattered into pieces caused by resent years. But together we are one, fitted together like a puzzle.

I pull Peeta tighter against me and run my fingers through his hair. I stare into the fire, and the fire whispers back at me. It says "sing". So I do. I sing a song that has long been banned from the lips of the people. I sing it for Peeta, I sing it for myself, and sing it for whoever is broken.

"Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murders three

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would I be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree".

My father used to sing that song around the house when he was still alive. I would make him sing it to me every time I went to bed.

Silence draps over us. Peeta's sobs have stopped but I can still feel his steady stream of tears. He pulls away from me and sits down beside me, staring into the fire. I watch him. The colors of the fire reflect off his blue eyes and illuminate his features. How could his mother not love him?

Peeta sniffs and wipes his eyes. "Well that song was depressing".

I chuckle, "No it's not".

"Katniss, a man and a women hung themselves". Peeta says matter of factly.

I shrug my shoulders. "Sure they did, but they did it out of love. You see the man was already dead, but the woman was still alive and the only way they could be together is if she too hung herself".

"Well... if you put it that way it's still depressing". Peeta says still looking into the fire.

I turn my head from him and look at it too. "I like it". I say

"Where did you hear it"? Peeta asks.

"My father sang it to me when I was little".

"Is that where you get you voice from"?

"Ya". I look down at my hands. I don't want to think about my father anymore.

"Thank you Katniss". Peeta whispers, turning to me.

I look up at him. "Anytime". I say with a smile.

Peeta returns it and looks back down. "I'm sorry I was being bitter".

"Oh please Peeta. You don't have to be sorry".

"I think you stole my line". Peeta says feigning shock.

I chuckle at his response. "Hopefully you won't be needing it any time soon".

Peeta just laughs.

Soon the only thing sounding between us is the crackling of the fire. I peer into it, the fire reminding me of something.

"Peeta, other than the fact that you're paintings are repulsive... You're actually quite good". I say looking at him.

"You don't like them"? Peeta asks.

I lean back on my elbows and lay my legs out in front of me, gazing back into the fire. "Of course I don't who would, but you really are talented".

"No ones ever told me that before". Peeta whispers

"Well that's going to change". I whisper back.

We stay silent for a while, letting the heat of the fire roll over our bodies like a warm blanket. I snuggle against it and breath in the scent of smoke.

I eventually end up laying down with my head in Peeta's lap, him massaging my scalp with his soft, calloused fingers. Years of kneading and shaping bread have created a talent that runs over his hands into the tips of his nails. My eyes close instinctively and I turn my head to bury my face in his soft shirt that hangs over is stomach. I breath in his scent, it slowly lulling me to sleep.

"Peeta?" I mumble into his shirt.

"Yes". He says in a dreamlike voice.

"You're really good at this".

"What"? Peeta laughs.

"Whatever it is you're doing".

"Thanks". Peeta chuckles.

His fingers move from my hair and trail down my face. His fingers barely grazing my skin. They run along my forehead and cheeks, ghosting over my closed eyeslids and pressing against my partly open lips. I sigh against them and bury my face deeper into his shirt.

"Peeta"? I ask again

"Hmmm"?

"Can you paint me sometime".

Peeta's hands still at my request, but only for a moment.

"Sure". He answers

"Good".

And them somewhere between darkness of sleep and the light of the fire, Peeta whispers a word into my ear, but I don't quite catch it. It's a short word, a small word. I can guess the number of letters.

It's a four lettered word and it pulls me under into the waiting darkness completely.


	10. A Single Dandelion

_Hi, yes, hello um how are you. Is there even a you out there becasue there probably isn't. Well yes this is my first fanfiction so I'm sorry for the upseting length of each chapter. I know, I know it upsets me too. I don't know why I didnt write this in my very first chapter. I guess my teenage mind is just melted. But um ya I just wanted to say hi and if you are reading this I love you to pieces and we are now best friends forever, no matter what you say. Below is the actually chapter. I hope your time is being well wasted lol. :)_

When I awake, the first thing that registers to me it that there were no nightmares. A light breeze flutters through the open window and the rising sun is stained a shade of red. I'm surprised when I can only find peace in it. The second thing that I'm aware of is that the other side of the bed is cold. I look over to find the spot next me emty, the pillow still leaving an indentaion of a head that was once there. I press my fingers against it to find it still slightly warm, unlike the rest of the sheets. Peeta must have carried me up here during the night. The thought of his name causes a surge of emotions to rush through me, a tingling starting at the tip of my toes and traveling to my scalp where his fingers had been. My lips twitch up at the image of his messy blonde hair and tired blue eyes that still seem to shine with life. I yearn to look into them and run my fingers through his curls.

I pull back the covers and make my way through the hallway and down the stairs, trailing my fingers along the railing as I pass. I hear the sound of pots in the kitchen and follow the trail of noise. I find Peeta standing in front of the counter with his back to me, kneading fresh dough. The smell of yeast attacks my senses and makes my stomach growl. I smile.

I walk up behind him and snake my arms around his torso and press my lips to his shoulder. He jumps at my contact and stills his hands in his work.

"Peeta you would be so easy to kill". I say, the front of my body still pressed against the back of his. I pinch the fabric of his shirt that hangs over his ribs between my fingers, then run those fingers up and down his abdomen. My fingers itch to trail the skin under his shirt. A shiver runs through his body.

"Well you're the only person I know that doesn't make any sound when they walk". He retorts in a slightly strained voice, returning his attention back to his work.

I rest my chin on his shoulder and watch him gently knead the dough into a circular ball. I like watching his hands when he puts them to use. He has such soft gently hands, hands that can turn sugar into art and bring a plain sheet of paper to life with the slightest of brush strokes.

Flour stains his fingers and upper arms, I can only imagine what the front of him looks like. I can feel the strain of his back muscles against my shoulders and the pull of his shoulder muscles against my chin.

"Penny for you thoughts?" Peeta asks, turning his head and pressing his lips against my ear, his teeth lighly grazing that spot. Now its my turn to shiver. His hot breath and soft lips cause me to break my gaze from his hands and look at the wall in front of me. I'm sure he can feel my pounding heart.

I tilt my head against his and sigh. "I guess I'm just... really happy".

"So you're in a good mood"? Peeta ask.

"Ya why".

"Because". Peeta takes my hands that are still wrapped around him and places them on the counter in front of him. This causes my chest and torso to be pulled flush against him. I can't stop the burning that comes to my cheeks.

"Peeta what are you doing"?

"I am going to teach you how to make bread".

I groan, "Peeta why"?

"Because I want to". Peeta says while grabbing my hands and threading them into the sticky dough.

" I think there's a easier why to do this". I whine.

"I like doing it this way". Peeta says and I can feel him shrug his shoulders while he counties to move my hands with his.

"Peeta I'm uncomfortable". I state frustratedly.

I think Peeta can sense the reality of my statement because he immediately release my hands and mumbles a 'I'm sorry' as I pull my arms and body away from him. I move to stand beside him and study his tense posture and flickering eyes. I place a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry Peeta it's just-"

"No Katniss it's fine I understand".

I lift my fingers to Peeta's chin and turn his head causing him to look at me. His eyes are sad, like he was just denied his favorite thing. I smile softly at his expression, leaning froward and pucker my lips against his forehead slowly grazing them down the bridge of his nose. I pull away and watch him. His eyes are clouded and he swallowing deeply. I quickly turn away from him and lean my hands against the counter.

Peeta clears his throat and through the corner of my eye I can see him place his hands back In the dough, working and folding it again.

"Can I just watch you". I ask, my eyes fixated on the wall infront of me.

"Katniss in order for you to watch me, you actually have to be looking at me".

I break my gaze from the wall and turn to his hands. "Right sorry". I mumble.

He chuckles, "No problem".

"So what are you planning to make"? I ask

"Cheese buns".

My eyes widen at his answer and my mouth instantly fills with saliva. Peeta looks over at me and chuckles.

"Don't get too excited. You'll have to wait a while before you can eat them". Peeta says while rummaging through cabinets to get the ingredients he needs.

I frown, counting down the seconds until cheese will melt on my tongue.

Thirty minutes later we both sit at the kitchen table, sipping cups of cold ice tea, bathing in the scent of which we had just created. In thirty more minutes we will be able to taste our art, well more like Peeta's art. I just stayed by his side so I could sneak pieces of dough and watch his finger work their magic. I'm still not sure how to even make bread.

"How did you sleep?" Peeta asks, taking a sip from his glass.

"Good. No nightmares". I reply with a smile.

Peeta returns it. "Good".

"The only time I seem to sleep through the night is when I'm with you". I whisper, breaking my gaze from his.

"I rather stay up then sleep without you". He says, repeating his words from last night.

The memory of yesterday makes my cheeks burn and my head spin, so I decide to change the subject.

"How did you get so good at baking?" I ask, running my finger along the droplets of water that have formed on my glass.

Peeta leans back in his chair and smiles. "Years and years of practice".

"Does it ever get dull?" I ask, flicking my eyes up to him and his relaxed pose.

"You would think it would, but it doesn't. You see, there are so many things to make and create that every new day comes with anticipation of what's next. Anticipation is never dull". Peeta's eyes take a new light when he talks about things like this. Come to think of it, his eyes hold that same light whenever he looks at me.

"I guess you're right". I say with a shrug.

"Of course I'm right". Peeta retorts, kicking my foot under the table. I kick him back. "So, does hunting ever get boring"?

"Of course it does. Sitting in a tree or walking around the woods having to be silent for hours upon hours really wears at my patience. But there is always a sense of fear and like you said, anticipation that makes it exciting".

Peeta nods his head at my words, breaking out into a wide smile.

"What"? I ask

"You don't scowl when you talk about the woods".

His statement causes me to break out into a scowl,which cause Peeta to burst out into laughter.

"Oh you think that's funny"? I ask crossing my arms.

"Oh definantly". Peeta replies while wiping his watery eyes.

"Well fine then". I say standing up from the table.

Peeta's smile immediately turns into a frown and concern flashes across his features. I turn from him and walk to the counter and rest my hands there,my posture tense. Peeta follows me and places his hand on the small of my back.

"Look Katniss I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-".

His sentence his interrupted with a blast of white powder to his face. I stand in front of him with one hand on my hip and the other coated with the flour Peeta had just used. He stays silent for a while, his eyes closed and breath labored. Then he breaks out into a sly smile and reaches for the eggs that lay next to the sink.

"Oh it's on". Peeta says and then all hell breaks lose.

Eggs and flour fly everywhere, spilling onto the floor and coating the walls. Egg and flour drip down my hair and onto my cheeks as well, staining my shirt in the process. Peeta is no worse for wear. He chases me through the kitchen, slipping a little on milk that had fallen to the floor in the mist of our war. I begin squealing and giggling which almost makes me stop in my trackes. I never giggle, but I push that thought to the back of my mind.

Soon my breathing begins to get heavy and my legs begin to tier, but I continue on until I end up bumping my hip onto the end of the kitchen table which causes me to stop and hiss. Peeta rushes to my side and places a hand on that hip and massages it gently. I sigh and instinctively move closer to his hand.

"Are you ok"? He asks

"Ya I'm fine" I breath out, wincing at the dull ache in my bone.

Then Peeta looks down at me with those blue eyes and I'm so lost in them again that at first I don't notice the flour being poured on my head. Then it blurs my vision and I'm forced to look away from him and at the mess on the floor that he just created.

"Peeta that's cheating". I yell.

"I'm not the one that ran into the table". He retorts

"But you acted all concerned and I thought... It was a time out!". I whine

"You never said anything about time outs".

"You know what? That's it, where's the milk?". I turn to run from him but he wraps his arms around my stomach forcing me to stay put.

"I don't think so". Peeta says breathing heavy.

I try to fight him, but my attempts are useless as his stong arms corale my body. So I stop struggling and turn around in his arms to face those blues that put me in this stuation. White powder covers Peeta's face which makes his eyes shine and pop with a wonderful vibrancy.

We stay that way for a while, just staring. I could stay this way all day but my plans are shattered when all of the sudden he's leaning in and then I'm leaning in and I know that there's nowhere else to go but meet in the middle, so that's exactly what I do. With the first brush of our lips, electricity shoots through me all the way down to my toes. Peeta's lips are soft and warm just like I imagined they would be, and they pucker against mine. The scent and the heat radiating off him is intoxicating and I don't know how I didn't faint right then and there. I wrap my arms around his neck and play with the soft downy curls there. Peeta places one hand on my cheek and the other on my hip, his gentle fingers softly stroking my exposes skin there. Goosebumps dot my skin and I shudder.

Peeta pulls away, but quickly returns taking my bottom lip in his mouth, gently pulling and sucking, wiping away the whine that almost broke through my wet, swollen lips. He pulls me closer to him and I have to suppress a moan that plays in the corner of my mouth and when I feel the tip of his tongue trace the lip in between his I swear that I could just melt away into a puddle of pure bliss. Tiny noises sound from the back of my throat and quiet grunts sound from his. Just as I begin to part my lips and explore his further, the timer on the oven goes off causing me to jump from Peeta.

"Shit". Peeta mumbles running over to the oven and pulling the hot cheese buns from it. I silently curse them.

I stay rooted to my spot by the table as Peeta places the buns on a cooling rack. My face is flushed and my skin is hot where Peeta's hands had been. I trace my lips with the pads of my fingers and close my eyes. 'Wow' is the only thing that comes to my mind. That was new and I liked it. That was the start of something, something great.

But as the warmth that Peeta left on my body slowly fades, those thoughts are diminished and my anxiety beings to rise and take it's place. Then suddenly I'm back where I started, feeling the same way I did when Peeta had first placed his lips on my cheek. I am brought back to my conversation with Prim that seems so long ago, but I can't place the words that fell from her mouth. So when I begin to walk I can't fight the noise my shoes make on the floor, or the sound of the door slamming behind me, and I can't fight when my feet carry me across the town, pounding on the gravel.

Once the remaining heat from my body has fully disappeared,fluttering into the air with a swoosh, I run. I run in no direction, no sense of where I'm really going. I just run until tall grass hits my legs, until I hear the soft sound of the Mockingjay's in the distance, and until I can smell the musky scent of my father in the air. Soon, I can't help the tears that fall because my mother loved my father and he's gone.

Then Peeta begins to appear everywhere and everything turns red and white and black. I can't hold back the sobs that fall from lips because he kissed me there and I kissed him back, but what if one day he never comes home, just like my father never did.

And when I stumble into the woods and fall down next to a single dandelion I can't fight the darkness that overtakes me and the demons that come with it.


End file.
